Unusual Escape
by Taka Llusion
Summary: Another BakuraRyou fic, like all the others. Well, maybe not exactly like them. Title is fairly self-explanatory; Ryou finds a very different release from the torments of his life with his yami, but what will Bakura think of it? Violence and yaoi fluff.
1. Never Aibou

TL: *gasp* It's a new fic! See, I'm not dead!

Jou: Suuuure you aren't. *pats head*

TL: *vein pops out* I'll have you know I breathed a couple times last night!

Jou: First time for everything.

TL: Anyway, here is it, my very first yaoi fic. Aren't you all proud?

*crickets*

TL: …Moving on. I didn't pass it through a formal beta-reader (gomen!!!) because a) I'm too lazy to find my original beta-reader's email again and b) I'm a chicken. Also c) I want unexpected reviews… Actually, I don't care that much about reviews, I just want people to be entertained by my work. If they aren't, they can tell me, and I'll do my best to satisfy you all THIS time around.

Jou: Your last fic pretty much did suck, didn't it?

TL: Yes, I hated it and abandoned it to die. But I've been training and honing my writing skills and gathering forces to help me up if I start getting depressed again *coughDEScough* and to help me also if I run out of steam, yaoi or otherwise *coughagainDEScough*.

Dedications: To Nick, just because he's the bestestest guy in the world. To DES because she introduced me to yaoi and gave me the idea for this fic (actually, she's done a LOT for me, now that I think about it). And to Gerry because he beta-read it from a common reader's point of view and was very supportive of this first chappy. …And to Greg because he doesn't diss Yugioh like most of the males around me (guys in my class, my dad, etc.). ^_^ I love you all, you cool people! And you readers and reviewers!

~~~@~@~@~~~

Yami Bakura knocked on Ryou's bedroom door for the very first time. Normally he would have barged in, his angry presence demanding submission from the occupant, but this time something had stopped him. There was a feeling that had seeped throughout the entire empty house, and this room was the source of it. It was foreboding, a darkness tinted with something that Bakura knew too well to identify, and it crept underneath the door of Ryou's room like a poisonous gas.

Bakura knocked again, regaining his normal state of wrath, towards himself and everyone else, even his hikari. Still Ryou would not answer, though Bakura was sure he heard movement in the room. It was hasty; Ryou was hiding something from him. Bakura didn't care. He feared nothing, except losing his pride or his honor, for he had no life from which to part. Then all in an instant Bakura lost his temper and kicked in the door, revealing a distressed Ryou standing by his desk, looking like a deer in headlights.

"I—I didn't hear you. I'm sorry, yami. P-please, I'm just not used to you knocking…" He trailed off, fumbling with his shirtsleeves. Bakura just stared, not quite sure what to think.

"…Whatever. You should sleep, or you'll drop dead at school tomorrow And not by my doing, either." He turned and shimmered away, Ryou assumed back to his soul room. The boy let out a breath. _That was close. I'm surprised he didn't knock the shit out of me this time. It's what he normally does when I do something wrong…_

_Go to bed, boy. Or I _will_ knock the shit out of you._

_Yes, Bakura._ Ryou changed carefully, avoiding his sore arm and bruised leg, and crawled under his covers. The leg was a product of Ryou's forgetting to leave his bedroom door unlocked about a week before; Bakura had had to get inside through the ring and had proceeded to attack his hikari, hitting his ribs and kicking his shin until the boy was sure it was broken. Somehow it was not, but it hurt tremendously now.

The arm had been Ryou's own doing. A series of neat slices ran up his arm, from a few inches above his wrist to a few below his elbow. Ryou wasn't sure why he had done it. He had just been sitting, thinking, and all the pain of his beloved yami's hatred had welled up in him, and he had to let it out somehow. He'd tried taking it out on other things, like he did when he was mad. He'd beaten up a pillow and shredded almost a whole package of paper, but it wasn't the same sort of problem. It was inside himself, and it wasn't something he could spread to the world. So he pulled out Bakura's pocketknife—the same one that had cut him several times before—and started cutting.

Gently at first, just a bit past the skin, but that stung too much so he went deeper, drawing more blood. This was a problem, as he was wearing a white shirt, but he grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom across the hall just as Bakura began his ascent of the stairs, and wrapped up his self-inflicted wounds. He could only pray Bakura didn't notice the bulge underneath his sleeve. He could only hope that the spirit wouldn't poke into his mind to find out more about his awkward appearance.

But somehow, after all of that, the hiding and sneaking, the nervousness about trying it, the physical pain helped. It wasn't applied by pure hatred, it was simply remorse and loneliness, loss of will. He felt more satisfied with life now then ever before. It was like a door opening to him, like the way he'd felt when he had discovered his love of poetry. After that day he had written poetry almost every night, about fuzzy things, like friends and seasons and sunshine and warm winter nights indoors. This was all before his yami had starting venturing out into the world, before Bakura had become a full character in Ryou's life, and not just a presence within the Ring. The first time Bakura had hit him was when Ryou had missed his traveling father. He had sat down to cry, when Bakura appeared and mocked him. Ryou was angered by this, but Bakura was quicker to act, and Ryou received his first scar from the one he loved.

For, through all of this blinding hurt, tears, blood, despise, Ryou loved his yami. He respected his strength, and the way he could ask for what he wanted and get it, too. Not to mention the good looks. So much like himself, but…even stronger-looking, an outward sign of his inner boldness. At least these were the theories Ryou suggested to himself. He wasn't, in truth, quite sure why he loved Bakura. He just did, he just felt so close to him that he longed to be closer. These were things he couldn't tell anyone, not Bakura, not his friends… What would Yugi say if he knew what Ryou had just done to himself? He wasn't sure, and didn't want to guess.

Bakura sat inside the Ring, inside his soul room, feeling strangely uneasy. He wasn't used to this feeling, always towering above all the mortals around him and constantly reassured of his control over his hikari. But all the same, now he was suddenly unsure. Ryou was hiding something, most definitely, but what could it possibly be? What purpose did it have, was it emotional or material, was it already in action? Questions swirled in Bakura's head, and he didn't want to answer them. If he didn't answer them, maybe they would go away, and things would be back to normal.

His hikari was exuding a strange emotion, as well. Bakura thought he felt anxiousness and desperation, but it was all covered by a huge mask of _pain_. Inner pain and outer pain, pain in all shapes and sizes. And then, beside the dark cloud of pain, was a bit of light, a ripple of satisfaction, of victory. What had Ryou found now? It wasn't that sickening poetry stuff again, was it? Bakura had worked very hard to stomp out any remaining poetic inspirations, and he didn't want those warm feelings returning to his shared body again. This was something to do with Ryou's hidden actions, and those same actions had caused the other things to grow as well. Whatever had made Ryou happier had also hurt him more. Bakura's head hurt just thinking about figuring it out, so he stopped thinking about it altogether and rested through the night.

"…Ryou? Are you all right?" Ryou opened his eyes to Yugi's worried voice.

"Wha―?" He looked around him. He was in the classroom, and it was lunchtime. Then the unimpressive events of the morning returned to him. It was the usual: get out of bed, act as humbly as possible toward his yami, and survive the first few classes without questions about his slight limp.

"You fell asleep. Jounouchi threw his pen at you, and you still didn't wake up! You shouldn't be staying up so late, you know."

"…Oh." He didn't have much to say. What was there _to_ say? Right now he just wanted his headache to stop.

Somehow he dragged on through the rest of the day, and his headache faded as he went on. He decided it had something to do with blood loss, so he planned to have lots of iron-rich green vegetables in his dinner. _If_ he managed to make a dinner without Bakura threatening him with a chef's knife.

He walked home slowly, his leg beginning to ache again, and was again surprised at Bakura's lack of response. What was it with him lately, not hitting Ryou, not yelling much at all… All since his barging in on Ryou the night before. Was he brooding? Plotting? Had he figured it out? Or was he realizing…

No. Ryou veered from that thought as quickly as possible. Bakura hated him, and even if he didn't, he wouldn't show a weakness like that. Bakura was strong, Bakura was his dominant yami, his powerful inner ruler. He looked down on mortals as if they were dirt; that is, stepped on them and paid no attention to them at all.

Hearing a familiar voice nearby, Ryou looked up. Yugi was passing him up, and talking excitedly to Yami. Ryou sighed. Why was it that he couldn't have a relationship with Bakura they way those two had with one another? The word "aibou" was unfamiliar to him. He was always the weak hikari, Bakura was always the strong yami, that was the way it was. They wouldn't ever be equals. They wouldn't ever…

Ryou stopped himself once again. He couldn't go on thinking these things. It was true, they would never be able to love each other like that. Never love. Respect and fear. That was all Ryou knew.

Yugi ignored him in his conversation and went on down the street. Ryou kept hearing the word "aibou" again and again, and it made him cringe. When Ryou got home, he let Bakura go on his way about the house, and went straight upstairs to his room and locked the door. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out the pocketknife. It had blood on it from last night, and Ryou made a mental note to clean the blade when he was finished or he would be found out for sure.

He returned from the bathroom with the blade perfectly clean, and then shut himself in the room again, and began his work. His left arm was a bit sore and already fairly covered, so he moved on to his right. The knife blade was cold, but comforting. Ryou could do something for himself, could pull himself out of his abuse-ditch. Here was something to bring him away from the thoughts he had earlier, here was something more real, more true, than love could ever be. Ryou's dreams couldn't come true. They were silly fantasies. This was not, the blood dripping down his arm. It wasn't a fantasy. The pain he really felt, not the imaginary heartaches, was there, sure as day and night. Yes, here was something real.

Bakura pounded on the door. Ryou jumped up and began covering up. He wiped off the pocketknife and shoved it into the drawer, then cleaned up the blood running over his hands. Bakura started yelling, so Ryou rushed to unlock the door. The moment the knob could turn Bakura slammed open the door and smacked Ryou across the face.

"Idiot!" Ryou felt the boot in his stomach and stumbled back against the wall. "I told you to leave the door unlocked, _all the time_." Bakura pulled the pocketknife from the drawer and then froze. _Hikari, what have you been doing with my knife?_ The words were clipped and cold. Ryou shivered.

_Hikari, answer me. Now!_

"I—I…" Ryou hadn't come up with an excuse for this yet. He floundered until Bakura became fed up and dragged his hikari to his feet.

"Whatever you were doing, don't do it again. Do you hear me?" Ryou nodded. Bakura pressed the edge of the blade against Ryou's cheek. "Never." A thin, thin line of blood trickled from the cut, but Bakura eased up the pressure and put he blade away. "I expect very little of you, hikari, and you can't do even the smallest things." He paused in the doorway on his way out. "You're never making it past high school like that." Then he stomped down the hall and steps, back to whatever he had been doing.

Ryou slumped to the floor. _What on earth?_ Had Bakura just sounded… caring? Maybe he just didn't fully grasp the concept he was talking about. There was some kind of misunderstanding here. There had to be. But Ryou kept thinking, and it just became clearer with each repetition. _Bakura cares!_ It was so small a thing, this one sentence of caring, then back to the anger and hate. But to Ryou, even the smallest thing was something to rejoice over. It was so rare, so precious a moment.

Ryou crawled over to his bed and curled up in the covers. There it was, the warm feeling he'd been missing. Happiness. Love. It all came flooding back to him, and he couldn't believe how good it felt. Was there any chance, any speck of possibility in the universe, that Bakura loved him? Anything, _anything_?

Exhausted by the tangle of thoughts in his head and the many emotions of the day, Ryou fell asleep at five in the afternoon.


	2. Grim Discovery

TL: Finally, I'm just going to stick this chapter up and hope for the best.

Jou: Can you believe it? She had to send it to three different people for beta-reading! It must really suck.

TL: Shut up. It only sucks a little.

Jou: You completely changed the ending. Now it's weird.

TL: Better than bad. Do the disclaimer, would you? I seem to have forgotten it last time. Eh-heh. o_O

Jou: Right. Taka doesn't own Yugioh or any characters in this fic. Not even any OC's!

TL: Jounouchi-kun, um, there _are_ no OC's.

Jou: …Hence the fact that she doesn't own them. Same dedications, plus her friend Lisa, for sticking by her in times of trouble. Aw, how CUTE! *applies noogie to TL's head (Ow! That hurts! Not funny!)* Now you can enjoy!

~~~@~@~@~~~

Ryou felt closer to the dark than ever tonight. The blade gleamed in a tiny ray of light from streetlamps outside. He used the small glimmer to track the knife's progress up his arm, shivering at the cold seeping into his skin. A thin line of blood was already reflecting the same light. He watched it as it grew and gathered in his palm. He felt dizzy, getting another headache, but he didn't try to stem the flow, because the more blood he lost, the more satisfied he was. He wasn't helpless anymore; he could endure pain too, just like Bakura.

He still couldn't let the spirit know, though. Whatever the reaction, it would ruin the thrill of having his own little strength. Bakura could stop him, or hurt him even more. No, he had to keep this hidden from everyone. It was his and his alone. Ryou suddenly felt as though he was being greedy, selfish. He had shared his poems sometimes, when they were especially good. But that didn't matter this time. It wasn't a form of entertainment for the reader. It was like training for a fight. It would get him through when he needed it most, his little strength, and then it would go back into hiding.

Ryou jumped at a creaking board in the hall. His mind flew. Bakura was in the ring, resting…right? Ryou searched for the presence in his mind and didn't find it—the door opened. And Ryou was standing in the dark, holding Bakura's pocketknife, with blood dripping slowly to the floor from his arm.

Bakura stared. Ryou gulped. The tomb-robber seemed to be attempting to understand what was going on, and Ryou wasn't sure what he himself was thinking at all. Then Bakura decided to speak.

"What in Ra's name are you doing with my knife?!" Bakura walked up to Ryou and roughly pried his prized weapon from Ryou's hand. He wiped it clean on his shirt and put it away carefully in its desk-drawer home. "And now—why are you up this late? Go to bed, idiot." He backhanded Ryou across the face. The boy didn't even wince at the stinging in his cheek, but he dabbed at his leaking wound with a corner of his shirt so his own blood wouldn't make a mess all over the sheets. When he began to make his way towards the bed, though, he felt dizzy again; the world spun and pitched before his eyes, and he stumbled to the floor and stayed there while the room reeled. Bakura uncaringly kicked him in the side on his way out. "Fine, sleep down there. It doesn't matter to me, as long as you aren't dead."

Ryou was surprised again. Bakura _did_ care what happened to his host—to some extent. He felt better, yet worse, wishing he could figure it out, and then a wave of pain hit him and he passed into oblivion.

It was daylight already when Ryou came to, and Bakura was gone again. He thought he heard him walking around downstairs, but there was a slight ringing in his ears and he wasn't sure of any sounds right about now.

Bakura was shocked by Ryou's acts of self-abuse, but he didn't dare show it. No displaying weaknesses to his hikari. It was the strength he flaunted that made Ryou respect him, and he would lose the fear factor if he acted startled.

Then again, he wasn't sure why he was so startled in the first place. Considering all he had done to his hikari, it was no wonder he was acting like he was insane. Maybe by now he _liked_ pain. But still… He felt worried again. This wasn't good. When Bakura became worried about his hikari, he felt terribly inadequate. He wasn't supposed to worry, it wasn't his role. He didn't care at all for the fool except as a body to use when he needed to.

But it seemed rational now. Obviously he was worried that the body would be damaged, or that Ryou would attempt suicide and leave him stranded in the ring again for a couple thousand more years. Yes, that made sense; it was the body he cared about, not the occupant. Immediately he knew he was hiding something from himself, avoiding some thought, but he didn't try to fix it. Being in denial was better than recognizing the truth.

Ryou was just _so_ tired. He wanted to sleep again, and remembered his bed, only a few feet away from him. He tried to lift his head and was struck by a sharp pain shooting through his skull. He dropped back to the rough hardwood floor.

"Ok, so no moving," he said quietly. He was surprised by how raspy his voice sounded, and realized he was amazingly thirsty. He moved his tongue around in his mouth. No moisture, not a drop. Now that he knew he was thirsty, it was the only thing he could think about. He wanted to call Bakura, to come and help him, but he knew there was no chance of that. Bakura didn't care about him. He was a punching bag to him, nothing more.

These thoughts only further amplified the pain coursing throughout his entire body, and a haze went over his vision. He drifted into a half-asleep dreaming state, not sure of what he saw and what was real. He lay on the floor looking up slightly, and saw Bakura's clunky boots. The spirit knelt down and pressed a cool hand to Ryou's forehead. Ryou shivered, and immediately the foggy Bakura drew back. The illusion began to fade away, and Ryou mewled for it to stay in his view, but it paid him no heed and left the boy in calm slumber.


	3. Helping Hands

TL: WOW! Lookit all the pretty reviews… O.O You guys are SO COOL! I present to you with pride… Chapter 3! Dan dan dan! (no, not "duhn duhn duhn", "dan dan dan" ^_~) I hope it lives up to your standards.

Jou: *bursts in randomly* Ooh, I'm in this one!

TL: Yes, yes you are. I even used my powers of the authoress to make you a bit cooler.

Jou: You mean… I'm not cool? *whimper*

TL: Naw, just irresistibly adorable. And sometimes very annoying. My head still hurts from that stinking noogie you had to give me!

Jou: Sorry, reflexes. *TL glares a death glare of DOOM* Eep! *ahem* So, disclaimer is rather obvious. This person here doesn't own Yugioh or any of its characters. The authoress doesn't either.

TL: And I ran out of dedications, so you are free to read on!

~~~@~@~@~~~

The doorbell rang. Ryou moaned. The sound brought his unending headache back to full power, not to mention waking him up. Maybe Bakura would open the door…

It rang again, and Ryou found Bakura's mind. _Yami, I can't move. At all. Could you open the door? Please?_

No answer. Bakura seemed to be ignoring him.

_Onegai?_

_Nope, sorry. It's not my job to take care of visitors. _Bakura seemed too preoccupied to yell at him mentally, but he apparently found the time to take his place in the ring again.

_Bakuuuraaaa!_ Ryou whined at him. Bakura ceased to acknowledge his pleas. "Ungh." Ryou winced as the doorbell rang again, several times in a row. Then the door downstairs opened loudly, banging into the wall, and several pairs of feet hurried up the stairs. Jounouchi was the first one into the room.

"Whoah! Ryou, are you okay, buddy?" He sat down on the floor next to him and grimaced when he saw the long cut down Ryou's arm. Yugi, Anzu, and Honda joined him on the floor and shared their shocked sympathies.

"Ryou, how did you get cut so badly?" Anzu's distressed blue eyes went over the scars and scabs on his arms. "Did…you do this?"

Ryu couldn't find the strength to answer, just formed the word "thirsty" with his lips and closed his eyes.

"I'll get him water!" Jou spoke up. "Honda, you get some bandages, and Anzu, you get him a warm wet towel. Those cuts need cleaning. Yugi, you stay with him and make sure he doesn't need anything else." Everyone rushed off to retrieve their assigned materials, not questioning Jounouchi's sudden leadership and level-headedness. Yugi waited until they were gone, and then asked, "It was Bakura, wasn't it?"

Ryou didn't respond for a few moments. "No," he said softly. "I did it." Yugi took this in slowly.

"…_Why_? I would have thought you were hurt enough already." Ryou didn't respond at all this time. Now that he was with his friends, in broad daylight, and away from Bakura's threats, it seemed very stupid.

Why had he done it again? So many reasons he had made up… Strength, distraction, discovery… Those answers no longer made sense. He wasn't stronger. He was lying on the floor, hurt, unable to move or even speak for very long. It had only amplified his suffering. And he wasn't all alone. People loved him. Just because Bakura treated him with hate didn't mean everyone had forsaken him. He had people to live for. He had dreams and hopes and goals once, great dreams. Bakura had only hidden them. He had crushed them himself, by thinking they no longer existed.

Kind words began brushing the dust of his hopes back together, into a little pile. He could rebuild himself. It hadn't been that long, only a few days. He could fight his desire for pain with his desire for love and a future. Maybe if he really acted stronger, his beloved yami would begin to respect him, finally.

His eyes snapped open when something rough rubbed against his gash. He winced and groaned in pain, but let Anzu wipe his cut clean. He endured the sting of cold hydrogen peroxide, and the pinching of the bandages. He accepted the drink and coughed when he first tried to swallow, his throat felt so coarse. He got it the second time, and even gratefully accepted the little bit of food being spoon-fed to him, despite the dangers to his pride. His friends. The only people in the world left to him. They would help him pull through.

He rolled over onto his back and sighed. He almost thought he could get up now. Maybe, with a hand from a friend. He took Yugi's, and struggled to his feet. _Take that_, he shoved at Bakura, feeling greatly inspired. _I might just have to write a sappy poem about this._

A long pause, and then, _Hmm?_ Bakura wasn't listening. Just as well, or he might have been mad. Then again, what could he do with Ryou's second family looking on? _Not much_, Ryou thought triumphantly, _not much_.

_-*-^-*-_

TL: I've got something to say here… I'm a little nervous about putting this up in the public domain, but Ryou (in this fic) and I share something in common. Yeah, you probably guessed it. In any case, it began after I started this fic, and I'm trying to reflect my experiences so far with therapy and discussions with friends and regular old soul-searching in Ryou's experiences. There are highs and lows for me: sometimes I'm pretty happy, finding some good distraction that puts me at ease, sometimes I'm a bolt of lightning waiting to strike somewhere, sometimes I'm a wave, imploding upon myself over and over… Putting Ryou through my feelings is almost soothing, as well as an opportunity to make this story as true to life as possible. I'll mention some important points when they come around, so you now get an author's note at the end too! What joy! What rapture! Jaa ne till chappy four!


	4. A Revolution

TL: Phew, I got this one done in a reasonable amount of time. I'm happy! *chipmunk grin* I'm sorry, once again, for the sloooooww progress my chapters undertake, but it's a pretty short story! Well, short compared to many, and I write pretty long chapters…

Jou: I'm alive!

TL: So from here it's going to get good. I'm known (at least in my own head) for my overly dramatic scenes, but I like to think about how it would look on the screen. There, drama is acceptable.

Jou: Hey there!

TL: So, in this chapter, we will actually start to go somewhere! Not like we've got much of anywhere to go… Oh well. I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh—

Jou: Neither do I! I think.

TL: --And I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the J-pop group Flame, because their music helped me get this bit of writing done! They're all so cute… *sigh* All righty, enjoy Chapter… what was it again? Oh yeah! 4. Heh.

~~~@~@~@~~~

Ryou's friends only stayed until 8, while the sun was setting. They all had work to do and were expected home by a certain time, so Ryou didn't mind them going. But once the house was left to just him and Bakura again, he began to feel alone once more. He sat at the kitchen table shoving at leftovers with his fork. The cold mac'n'cheese didn't seem to mind being rearranged over and over again for countless minutes, but eventually Bakura decided to make himself known.

_What _are_ you doing to that food?_

Ryou didn't have an answer. He was just pushing it around, nothing drastic.

"Boy—" Ryou jumped at the sound of Bakura's voice above him. He looked up into the spirit's eyes and blinked. There was something a little different. For once he didn't seem bent on destruction and tormenting Ryou. Whatever he wanted, though, Ryou couldn't guess.

Bakura had thought it over. He had thought it over all day and the previous night. He kept coming upon answers he didn't want to be true, solutions he didn't want to try, and feelings he didn't know he had, and wished he didn't. There were things he knew and didn't want to believe.

All he could think of to do was banish those feelings with something else. He couldn't indulge them. That would be madness. These feelings weren't even considered 'right' in any age, he thought. Something was wrong, and he needed it fixed. The thing to do was eliminate the source.

But for some Ra-damned reason he couldn't bring himself to do that.

Ryou watched Bakura staring down at him for several minutes, then scraped his chair back and got up, breaking eye contact. "I'm going to bed," he mumbled, and shuffled towards the stairs. Bakura didn't try to stop him, just followed the retreating back with his gaze. Ryou was glad when the floor came between them and he no longer felt the twin beams of heat blazing into his shoulder blades. He changed and flopped on the bed, feeling sleepy but restless. He knew he should get to sleep, but something was stopping him. His mind was still moving at the speed of light, trying to decipher everything that was happening to him.

The pain, the torment, the confusion… There was a war raging in this house, several wars. Ryou vs. Bakura, Ryou vs. himself, Bakura vs. his own mind. Ryou wanted more than anything right now to run away from it. Run away from Bakura, from his own feelings and actions that he didn't fully understand. He finally decided that sleep could bring him temporary relief, so he retreated to its dark, cool embrace.

Bakura watched the sleeping boy with tired affection, too weary to brush it off. It barely mattered anymore, not when he was so exhausted… It was too late to be thinking hard. Instead Bakura simply stroked Ryou's hair, gently enough so he wouldn't be disturbed, and prayed the boy was really asleep.

Ryou's breath went in sharply for a moment, then out again softly. Bakura's forehead broke out in a light sweat. _Dammit, you scared me!_ Then he sighed, and retired to his soul room to rest.

"Are you going to school or what?"

Ryou's eyes flickered open and he squinted at Bakura's form looming above him. "Nani?"

Bakura just glared.

Too sleepy to realize what he was doing, Ryou muttered, "But okaasan, I don't feel good." It took him several moments to register his own words, and as he did so his eyes stretched to about the size of dinner plates, give or take a few inches. "Er, sorry, I—I didn't mean to say that, it just slipped out—"

"It's all right," Bakura said tiredly. Ryou wilted where he sat, bewildered as usual by Bakura's actions. He was amazingly unpredictable—one minute he was a psychotic sadist, the next he was a downtrodden motherly figure. Unfortunately, the former was much more likely.

"Bakura… You're scaring me."

"Good," came the blunt reply.

"Not like that." There was an awkward moment of silence, then Ryou flopped back under the blankets. "I still feel pretty tired. I'll take one more day off, all right?"

Ryou decided that the lack of a vocal reply and Bakura stamping off to brood in the kitchen again was a sign that it would indeed be all right.

After lying in bed for an hour or so, Ryou decided he couldn't go back to sleep, and so got up and paced the room slowly. He had problems. He knew it. The biggest problem was his lack of solutions. If he kept running away from his problems, by the time they caught up to him, he'd be too tired to take them on. But he was already tired…

Ryou jumped as his stomach growled unexpectedly, and he made his way to the Great Lair of the Bakura—a.k.a., the kitchen, where aforementioned spirit sat hunched dejectedly over a decimated piece of paper, thoroughly absorbed in his own thoughts.

"Ohayo, Bakura." Ryou pulled a jug of milk from the fridge, shivering at the cold projected from within. Bakura didn't answer. Ryou glanced sideways at him as he mixed cereal and milk together in a bowl. "Daijoubu desu ka?*"

"Yes!" Bakura snapped, glaring at Ryou hotly. There was a silence full of crackling energy, before Ryou opened his mouth. "I'm so—"

"Stop it. I know what you're going to say. 'I'm sorry, Bakura, I'll just leave you alone now.' You're always backing down! That's why I—That's why—"

Ryou stared at him, half in shock and half expectantly.

"That's why I hate you, Ryou!"

Ryou wilted at the words, but left his breakfast and bolted to his room before Bakura could make another move. He made a beeline for his desk, dragging a drawer out and snatching up Bakura's forbidden knife. Tears forming in his eyes and sobs clogging his throat, he sliced the skin in stripes along the outside of his arm. Blinded by tears and numbed by the almost unbearable pain shooting up his arm, he crumpled to the floor and let himself go. He wept with every bit of pain and unrequited love that had built up inside of him, forcing out loud gasps and whimpers into the rug, screaming internally at everyone he was ever angry at. Bakura, for being so cold, himself, for being so weak, Yugi, for getting along so well with his yami, his father, for not being there for him when his life was crumbling in his hands…

Struck with sudden fiery passion and overwhelming hopelessness, he picked up the bloody knife, pressing his arm to his shirt, and walked purposefully down the stairs to lean against the kitchen doorframe and face his troubles eye-to-eye.

"Bakura," he said loudly, focusing on the head of silvery hair that hid his yami's face. "Turn around."

Bakura heard the hoarseness in Ryou's voice, and he seemed to be breathing heavily. He tossed Ryou a look that said, 'Go away, worthless being,' but made note of the boy's appearance. Blood stained his whole right arm and made large deep red blotches on his soft blue pajama shirt. In his weak left hand he grasped Bakura's pocketknife—hadn't he told him to leave that alone? His face glistened with tears, and his eyes—his calm brown eyes were suddenly a turmoil of a million negative feelings.

"You're a wreck," Bakura began, still not turning fully around, but Ryou cut him off.

"It's you. It's your fault." Bakura blinked. "I've tried my best, but I can't change who I am. I know you hate me, and I know I'm not the same as you." Ryou paused to catch his breath. "But—But _you_ wouldn't let me be myself without repercussions. You took your frustration out on me, as if I wasn't even human. As if I were some toy for you to fool around with, never worrying about what I felt.

"You did this!" Ryou unbuttoned his shirt and displayed an array of various scars ad bruises decorating his upper body. "And, you did this." He held up his arms, both bleeding and bandaged. "You, you made me do this. But I…" He stopped for breath again. "I still…" His knees were giving way. So little blood left in his body, and such pain… His mind was whirling… "I love you," he managed to whisper, before falling on the kitchen tile, and slowly losing consciousness.

_-*-^-*-_

*In case you didn't know (and since it wasn't really implied by context), this means something along the lines of, "Are you okay?"

TL: Like I said, sorry about the clichéd-ness of it all… I think it's a very touching scene myself. All right, so to the notes. You notice how Ryou's trains of thought seem to head in different directions every chapter? It's sort of like a rationalization process. He keeps trying to figure it all out, but each reason doesn't seem plausible enough. Trust me, it'll happen. Also, the last chapter was like a representation of how friends can really help you out when you feel like shit. I learned that the hard way, and anyone with friends will tell you the same thing. (Speaking of friends, I miss you, DES! …)

About Flame: I don't really know that much about 'em, but I was in a store called Book Off in New York City and there was a huge wall of J-pop, so I couldn't resist walking away with something. I randomly picked up the box because all four of them are super-hot (I've got a thing for Asians…), and they turned out to be pretty good. So that's the story behind them, as if you really wanted to know.


	5. Even Still

TL: Ahoy, maties! Since you all seemed so anxious I decided to put up a nice little cliffhanger-killer, even though it's short. Sorry to keep you waiting so long for so little.

Jou: Also, the authoress has a new computer, so she's been settling things with that and transferring documents and that kind of thing.

TL: Yupyup, but my new compy's so nice and fast… *sigh* I'm gonna dedicate this chapter! It's dedicated to my friends Aleia, and DES, who is not dead (huzzah!). Disclaimer please, Jounouchi?

Jou: This writer-person here does not own Yugioh or any characters therein, but the poem in this chapter she made up herself. Pretty sad, really.

TL: Hmph.

~~~@~@~@~~~

Bakura stared for a few minutes at the limp form lying sprawled in the doorway. It looked like he had fainted. Bakura _hmph_ed and walked up to Ryou, crouching down next to him. He grabbed a shoulder and shook it, flipping the boy onto his back. "Hikari!" he said sharply. "Ryou! Wake up!"

Ryou made a tiny groaning noise, but didn't wake. Bakura sighed. This could be complicated. First he grabbed a dish towel from the counter and drenched it in the faucet with warm water, then used it to clean up Ryou's arm and wipe the sweat from his forehead. As he did this Ryou stirred slightly, taking in a breath. Bakura watched him intently, wondering if now he would rise, but to no avail. Bakura sighed and picked Ryou up, carrying him to his room and setting him on the bed with grace. And then, he waited…

Ryou's mind would sometimes come out of its dark fog and swim through lighter grey areas, when he felt something or heard Bakura's voice, but he couldn't bring himself to wake up and face the consequences of his words. It was comforting, knowing that here, in this strange world of total black and no memories, he was perfectly safe. He couldn't feel it if his life left him, and he couldn't see Bakura's face twisted in anger. Yes, here he was safe, so he let himself drift along the currents of nothingness.

"Green below grows the grass, and golden above soars the sun…" Bakura squinted at the blotchy letters on the paper. "Lost in a world of blue, I still know that you are the one." _Well, _that_ was sure a creative rhyme_, he thought sarcastically, but kept reading. "Even though I might cry all night, I still love you with all my might." He snorted again, but more softly. It wasn't amazing, but Ryou had still written it…just for him. It was a pity he couldn't have handed it to the spirit himself and ended up letting it instead go through the middleman of the trash can, but that was Ryou. You sometimes had to dig deep to find his true feelings.

"I dream that someday you'll wipe away my tears, and that you'll stand up strong against my fears… But for now I take the hits to make you smile, even if I'm screaming all the while." Bakura was too absorbed in the poem to notice Ryou's eyes snapping open in recognition.

"Sorry for being such a burden," Ryou mumbled, averting his eyes toward the wall. Bakura looked up in surprise.

"Did you really mean it? What you wrote, and what you said?"

Ryou looked back into Bakura's face and decided to be brave, this one time. "Yes. I meant every word of it."

He endured Bakura's silence and watched as he actually averted _his_ gaze. "Well… It's a nice poem."

Ryou smiled as he felt Bakura finally giving in. "Thanks. I'm still tired, so…"

"Oh yeah. I'll bandage your other arm up for you."

"Thanks again, Kura-chan."

Bakura winced at the nickname, but Ryou felt something had changed about him. It seemed that he had had a great weight lifted off his mind, and one of the reasons for him hurting Ryou was gone.

His bleeding fully stopped and his mind settled, Ryou succumbed to some much-needed rest. 


	6. Never?

TL: WOW! It's been a long and hard journey, but this is it. This is the end. I think I'm tearing up here…

Jou: Aww, it's ok. There are lots of other series out there to fiddle with.

TL: You're right. Maybe I'll write another fic someday. (Shyuuuuure…) But right now I'm exhausted just finishing this one. I can't believe it's over. This means that if you don't like the ending… YOU'RE STUCK WITH IT! Oh well, I thought it was pretty good. A little note about updating here… I said I'd update once school was out, and my school let out on June 5. So I was a lazy butt for a while. I felt I should be truthful to you guys about that. I'm so sorry for cheating out of a couple weeks there.

Jou: They'll live. Get on with the obligatory crap.

TL: Er, right, what he said. I don't own Yugioh and don't even technically type it in right (but no one really cares, right?), plus I have no money, let alone money I made off of this piece of writing. So, I'm begging you, don't sue me. I'm too young to be in debt! And I love all you people who reviewed, you're the best people in the whole wide world! I would review other stories too, except that I seem to be very bad at it. So sue me. Or, rather, don't. Please.

Jou: Here it is, the end of a fic that didn't center around me.

When Ryou finally woke up again, quite rested, Bakura had gone. The boy sat up slowly, looking at his bandaged arms. They both ached and throbbed, and his head swam vaguely through miserable thoughts of his screwed-up life—He stopped when he remembered Bakura. It took several seconds for it to register in his brain that Bakura had shown concern for him. It took several minutes to realize that maybe Bakura didn't… hate him.

This could lead to a whole new perspective on life. Ryou hauled himself up and teetered and tottered his way downstairs, clinging to the walls for balance and support. He reached the kitchen, and peered around, but there was no Bakura. Puzzled, Ryou fervently searched the rest of the house, but Bakura was not to be found. Beginning to panic, Ryou stumbled outside, calling out Bakura's name. He ran down to the street corner and looked up the adjacent sidewalk, trying to pick out Bakura's silver hair…

THERE! Ryou took off in bare feet, pajamas, and slightly stained bandages, sprinting down the street towards the slowly retreating back of his yami. Other pedestrians, shocked, dodged out of the way. Ryou pulled up short at the corner, hopping up and down in impatience for the light to change. "Bakura!" he yelled over traffic and chatter, but the cry fell on deaf ears. Finally the cars stopped going straight and the light turned white, and Ryou was off again, tearing past shop fronts and vendors. He was just yards away from Bakura now, and he called out once more. Bakura turned to face him, and at that moment Ryou tripped on a large crack in the sidewalk and flew forward into the ground. His arms sought out a hold on something, and found Bakura's knee, but his chin hit the ground hard all the same.

Bakura looked down at Ryou with large eyes, his hands still in his pockets. "Ryou? Are you okay? And still relatively sane?"

The boy pulled himself up, rubbing gently at his scraped chin with his wrist. "I'm… I'm okay," he panted, kneeling on the ground before the spirit. "Why did you... l… leave?"

Bakura looked incredulous for a minute, and then pulled Ryou up to his feet. "I thought you wouldn't want me around anymore. I mean, a homicidal homosexual spirit who spends his days torturing his hikari and wondering what the hell is wrong with himself…" Bakura's tone and face showed bitterness.

"No—Bakura…" Ryou tried to think of a way to word his thoughts, but was interrupted.

"You shouldn't be out in public like this, it's embarrassing." Bakura turned and started in the direction of home. Ryou blankly followed him down the street and back into the house.

"Did you see all those people staring at us? Do you think you could be a little more odd-looking next time? It's not generally my style to attract attention," Bakura grumbled as he sat down on the sofa.

"I'm sorry," Ryou apologized, quietly and humbly, collapsing next to Bakura.

"Okay, go on, say whatever you had to say. Why it was you wanted to keep me around, or whatever."

Ryou blushed and found that often words were hard to come by when you most needed them. "I… Wait, how is it you were describing yourself?"

"Hnh? Oh, a homicidal homosexual spirit who—"

"You're what? Homosexual?" Ryou stared at Bakura with the oddest look on his face… Fear, or surprise, or confusion, something like that.

"I guess."

Ryou blushed again, feeling a winning shot coming on. "What… What makes you think that?"

Bakura glared at Ryou. The air buzzed quietly. "…Shit."

Ryou smiled eerily. "I love you, Bakura."

There was another electric, uncomfortable moment of silence.

"I love you too, Ryou."

And another.

"Really?"

"No, I actually hate you, and everything about you, and everything that reminds me of you. I wish you would suffer the greatest pain any human has ever felt and then die and go to the worst afterlife imaginable. They're the same thing though, right?" His expression remained wry and bored.

Ryou looked at the edge of his seat to avoid Bakura's eyes, and was about to say something along the lines of, "I think I'm going to puke," when his brain short-circuited abruptly.

There have been many descriptions of great kisses throughout the ages, but all words fell short of this one. It was hot and cool, soothing and burning, wonderful and terrible, overpowering and yet calling for something to be added… Before he knew what was happening Ryou found himself pinned against the sofa, totally lost in Bakura's lips, and not giving a fig what happened next, so long as he was with Bakura, knowing they were in love.

Bakura pulled back, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, and an evil look in his eyes. So, little white-haired angel, you love me, eh? And you didn't accept my offer to leave you alone. Just how far are you willing to go for me?" Bakura's tongue flicked against Ryou's ear and the boy's thought processes slowed to a halt.

"All right, so don't talk to me." The spirit unbuttoned the front of Ryou's pajama shirt and planted nips and wet kisses along his collarbone. Ryou made small noises of pleasure and wriggled, which made Bakura's grin widen.

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when Bakura had made his way down to Ryou's pants, that he decided it was time to stop.

"Okay… Bakura…" His head seemed to have been emptied of all vital sentence-forming memories. "Please… NO!" Ryou's body stiffened and he scrambled up into a sitting position once Bakura's hand started going places.

Bakura regarded the boy with disdain and a smarmy shrug. "Sure thing." He then proceeded to cast his gaze determinedly upon the wall.

Ryou found himself feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, it's just… I'm just too scared for now."

It was a revolutionary moment in Ryou's mind. He had found the courage to admit to being afraid and unsure, to Bakura's face. He received no reprimand, no pain. Bakura only looked at him with false understanding (but at least he had tried). Though it looked like it pained the spirit slightly, coming up with an expression like that. Ryou smiled. "Thank you so much, Bakura."

Bakura frowned, but gathered Ryou into his arms, holding his head against his chest and stroking the boy's hair, soft as new-fallen snow.

"I suppose… I love you too, aibou."

_Fin_


End file.
